I want to leave something
When I die
To show that I was here
Of course I’ve got young people
And my sweet lover
And various keepsakes
That I hold dear
But
This bequest must be
Of poetic design
As melodious as my spirit
As lyrical as my mind
Buried like hidden treasure
For future word finders to find
Small portions of me
To know me by
Left behind
To discover
After I die